


The Victor

by jehall2



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Don't be mad if it's not quite Avengers and not quite Hunger Games!, i have no idea how to tag this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:20:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27691277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jehall2/pseuds/jehall2
Summary: Tony Stark is the son of Howard Stark, the Merchant of Death of District 4.  Tony Stark is a genius.  Tony Stark is 11 years old.  Tony Stark is the youngest tribute reaped for the 74th Hunger Games.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 33





	1. The Reaping

**Author's Note:**

> I like writing fanfiction about Tony Stark. I just find him to be an interesting character. I was watching the Hunger Games for a class I'm teaching and thought "Man, Tony would own these Games." And then I thought, "But what if he was still a little kid." And then I tried to find that Crossover. I couldn't. So now I'm writing it. I may lose interest at some point. If someone wants to adopt this at some point after the first few chapters--I'm open to that.

The Capitol of Panem was a thriving metropolis full of decadence and hedonistic pleasure, but the surrounding 12 districts were cruel places to live, even for those few officials that helped to maintain the Capitol’s control in the outlying areas.

In District 4, the Stark family was one that had long provided much of the energy and technology for the Capitol, making them a favorite of the President. Howard Stark, whose innovations had surpassed the technological wonders of even District 6 some time ago and made District 4 a leading supplier of weapons along with their staple trade in fish, was gone to the Capitol as much as he was home. But his right hand man, Obadiah, maintained strict control while he was away. 

This was the world that Tony Stark had been born into, his mother dying as he took his first breath.

Tony was small, even for a young boy. He was short, but lithe since he frequently climbed quickly up the tall trees in the grove that marked the edge of his father’s land just before the beach and the coast in order to see the fishermen working on the beach and escape Obadiah’s harsh control. 

Tony was quick, for more than one reason though. He had to be because he was hated by almost everyone, except his father’s servant, Jarvis. To Obadiah, he was threat to the finite resources that he could control, and the more that Tony’s genius became apparent, the less willing and able Howard was to produce the innovations that had seen his own star rise to the Capitol heights. Tony was a genius, but he was interested in developing new and unusual tech rather than the weapons that Howard excelled at, and his unwillingness to serve Obadiah made him cruel to the boy. Still, he quickly learned to build enough of what Howard and Obadiah wanted to avoid their abuse until he could escape their notice once more.

At the same time, the people of District 4, unaware of his trials, saw the boy as another Capitol crony, living in luxury as many struggled to survive day-to-day. The occasions where he ventured out were met with harsh beatings from the surrounding children who knew how to hide from the few peacekeepers that minded the district.

So, Tony grew quick and smart rather than lazy and spoiled as the world might think. By day he studied, built, and hid amongst the trees. By night, he travelled to the beaches and watched the nighttime fisherman, plying them for tricks to keep his keen mind busy. He expected nothing would change once he turned 11, despite his first entry into the Hunger Games—a yearly competition that Tony had only watched a few times with Jarvis.

*****  
“You must be prepared, Master Tony,” he said solemnly as Tony leaned against him, watching the holograms as children murdered children and monsters chased them outside of nightmares and into waking reality.

“Why do they call them games,” Tony asked, crying silently as he watched the violence. “It’s no game, Jarvis.”

“Everything is a game, Master Tony. You simply have to know who’s playing. They will always be the winners,” the gray-haired man said, stroking Tony’s curly hair before setting a chess board before them. “Now play,” he added, drawing Tony’s attention away from the tributes in the holograms.

*****

Tony stood near the front, as it was his first year to take part in the reaping. He watched as a girl was chosen—one of the older ones, 16 years-old. But then they were choosing the male tribute. He stood still.

“And the male tribute is . . . Anthony Stark!”

Tony’s eyes immediately searched out Jarvis, who had paled where he stood next to Obadiah. It had only been for a moment, but Obadiah’s smirk told Tony all that he needed to know. Tony looked forward after meeting Jarvis’s eyes and then stepped out to walk towards the stage. Nearby, a boy laughed. Tony raised his chin and walked more quickly.

“Oh, but aren’t you the cutest,” the asinine woman cooed as if she wasn’t sending him off to his death. Even the girl gave the woman a disgusted look.

“It’s only right it should be him,” someone muttered nearby, but he lowered his eyes quickly when Tony, so very young, looked down at him from where he stood with too large, doe eyes.


	2. The Capitol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony begins his training in the Capitol.

Tony waited in the small office. He knew that Howard would not come since he was away. He hoped that Obadiah would not come. Would Obadiah keep Jarvis away out of spite?

But then the door was opening and Jarvis rushed in, a tall stranger beside him.

“Master Tony,” he whispered sadly as he pulled the boy in. “We only have a few minutes, my boy,” he said, stroking his hair. “Tony, I have seen you survive in the face of every type of diversity. Howard and Obadiah are cruel masters,” he said, suddenly facing the stranger with a harsh expression. “You of all should know that nothing is ever as it seems.”

The young man looked intensely at Tony, who stood trembling with his arms around the elderly servant, but made no sound.

“Look at me, Tony,” Jarvis said once more. “I love you. Know that I love you. You must come back,” he said, shaking Tony a bit.

“I’m so small,” Tony whispered.

“But your destiny has always been bigger than you or I could imagine, Master Tony. You have two weapons that they will not be able to take away. You are brilliant, Tony. Use EVERYTHING that you know. EVERYTHING. Do you understand? Remember who is watching . . and how,” and he shook him again until Tony’s eyes lit up. “Yes,” Jarvis nodded with a smile.

The man seemed to know that something had happened, but he had no idea what. 

“And the other weapon,” the man finally asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“He is a survivor,” Jarvis smiled, never taking his eyes off Tony. “Not a killer. Never that. But a survivor . . . always.”

The man watched the pair as they clung to one another, an odd match to be sure.

“I’m only doing this for Mags,” the man finally said. “It seems to most that Howard Stark is finally getting what he deserves,” the man added with a distasteful look at Tony.

“Then you know nothing. This is exactly what Howard Stark would have wanted,” Jarvis added, and hugged Tony tighter. “But you will come back to ME, Tony. Promise me.”

“Yes, Jarvis,” Tony said clearly, his little boy’s voice ringing out in a high clear tone. And for a moment, even the young man seemed to believe him.

Then they were knocking, and Jarvis was escorted out. The man ushered Tony quickly towards the train that would take them to the Capitol.

*****

“You’ve watched the games, no doubt,” the man said, his feet propped up on the couch where he lay stretched out. Tony huddled in a nearby chair, while the girl sat at the opposite end of their mentor.

“Of course,” the girl shrugged, looking for a moment at Tony.

“Yes,” he said softly.

The man nodded and then popped a bit of food in his mouth.

“Then you’ll know that you’re both probably dead, and there’s little that I can do for you?”

“Finnick,” the other Chaperone chided. “It is true that the tributes face overwhelming odds, but your time in the Capitol will be a treat! All the food you can eat, luxurious suites, and FABULOUS clothing!”

“What Bonnie means is they’ll fatten you up nicely before you die. Congratulations,” he snorted. The girl, Bree, scowled.

“That’s not really helpful.”

“Honey, you’re a bit homely and dumpy, and half-pint over there is probably too small to even stay on the chariot for the opening of the games,” Finnick laughed.

“I think you’re pretty,” Tony said, sitting up. “Your eyes look like the sea,” he added with a hopeful smile, that the girl returned.

Finnick eyed the boy with a curious expression before he smiled.

“Already playing, are you, Stark,” and he leaned back once more. “Well, I’m off the clock until we reach the Capitol. Wake me when we get there.”


	3. Before the Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's training and his individual evaluation as a tribute.

Tony stood beside Bree, his training clothes highlighted exactly how small he was compared to the other tributes. The opening chariot ride had been uneventful, but he had learned during the opening interviews that he was the youngest to be selected and that everyone else was 15 or older. Finnick had laughed until Tony had kicked him hard in the shin.

Now they were all lined up and being given advice on the training that they will receive for the next month.

“My advice is not to ignore the survival techniques.”

Tony already knew this, but a reminder wouldn’t hurt.

They quickly separated and the larger careers immediately went for the various weapons. Tony rolled his eyes and made his way to the nearest computer console. After a few minutes of scrolling, his eyes dancing across the images at an amazing pace, he closed the screen and moved to the next. By the end of the first week, Tony had acquired all of the information that was available for the tributes. It was a lot. The careers were laughing, but Bree and another from District 12 watched the boy seriously.

“Do you know what you’re doing,” Bree asked him as she slurped from a water bottle.

Tony had a sharp knife and was quickly whittling away at a piece of wood.

“I can whittle, make fires, tie knots, and fish. I can find shelter and climb. I’ll be okay,” he shrugged, as if completely unaffected by their impending deaths.

“I’ll watch out for you,” Gayle, a tribute from 12, assured the boy, horrified that an 11 year old had been reaped. His youngest brother was that age.

“Allies then,” Tony asked with a smirk that surprised the taller tribute.

“Sure, kid,” Gayle said, ruffling his hair. He stood and began to walk off, leaving the boy to his whittling while Bree rose to walk beside him.

“You know that he can’t offer you anything, right. There are rumors in my district. If you think his father will help you get sponsors . . . well, that’s not likely, Gayle.”

“It’s the right thing to do,” Gayle said seriously.

“Only one of us can survive,” the girl said softly, after a pause. “Are you saying you’ll help him at the cost of your own life?”

“I can ease his way,” Gayle replied seriously, thinking of Katniss, and how he had promised to return.

Gayle straightened as he watched a group of the careers and their lackeys make their way towards the small boy. He started to make his way back to Tony, but Bree gripped his arm.

“Let him. He’s protected here, and it will surprise them he has allies if you wait,” she said softly. Gayle gave her an appraising look, reassessing the girl for this small, strategic move.

They watched as one of the girls shoved the boy and laughed.

Tony lay on his elbows for a moment before slowly rising, and as quick as a snake, struck the girl in six different places that had her seizing up and falling to the ground, immobile and exhaling pained whimpers. The other careers stood gaping. Tony leaned over the girl and said, loud enough so the others would hear “Here, here, and here (pointing at three places on her body); you’d bleed out quickly. Dead in minutes, “he shrugged, before adding “Here and here? It would be slow . . . excruciating.” 

Tony stood and walked away before one of the officials had made their way over to scold the tributes for fighting.

Bree stared at the boy, open mouthed before Gayle said “how did you do that?”

Tony looked back at the careers who were watching him in a different light now, speaking loud enough for them to hear. “What? It was under “combat” and the subcategory “anatomy” in the survival guide. Of course, I’ve read the whole thing, but certainly you at least got to the C’s” Tony said condescendingly to Gayle before looking over his shoulder with a smirk before walking away.

******

“I don’t know what you did to make the careers look at you like that, but maybe you’re not completely hopeless after all,” Finnick said, smirking at the boy while Bree watched on as they ate a feast in a penthouse, overlooking the Capitol. It was insane. “But tomorrow? Tomorrow is make or break it time. Whatever you do, you have to play up your strengths to the judges. They’ll decide whether you get sponsors or not. Bree,” Finnick said, gesturing at the girl before spearing an asparagus stalk.

“Well, I’m good with a knife?”

“Throwing,” Finnick asked, surprised.

“No, I cleaned fish for the market. You know, deboning and fileting?”

Finnick slammed his head on the table.

“Why are you my tributes,” he sighed. “Well, what about you, kid?”

Tony was quiet before a small smile slid on his face.

“I have something in mind.” He wiped his mouth and stood from the table, leaving the others chatting softly behind him.

*****

Tony walked in, eyes taking in everything in the room. In the center, there were different weapons and all different forms of survival gear that he would expect to be in the cornucopia—that he would certainly avoid at all costs. The judges all chatted and meandered around a table of decadent foods, laughing as if this wasn’t one of the most important moments in Tony’s young life.

Tony glanced around again, looking back at the door then scanning a wall that had a conspicuous panel near one corner. He smirked, and walked to the center where the weapons were. He glanced around until he found one small knife, then he looked up at the judges, sitting on high.

“Tony Stark, District 4,” he said confidently. He stared a moment longer once the whispering started, knowing they were talking about his father. 

Tony held the knife out in front of him, angled his head curiously and smirked before pivoting and walking back to where he had seen the panel, near the entrance to the room. He glanced back once more. Only one or two judges watched as he pried the panel loose and began fiddling. In precisely one minute and 25 seconds, the lights flickered and died. The buzzing sound that all but Tony had likely ignored also ceased. The dark remained for another four minutes while the judges voices began to raise from mutters of annoyance to distress.

Tony was light on his feet, The only sound in the room was the whip of a rope. The lights came back on when Tony’s 10 minutes were up.

“Well,” Senneca, the game Maker laughed, looking around for the boy, but Tony wasn’t on the tribute floor.

There was the crunch of someone biting into an apple, and the judges who had been scanning the floor for Tony were surprised when they found him lounging in one of their seats munching on an apple. He stood and tossed the apple up once before catching it easily. He looked Senneca in the eye, no fear.

“They call my father the Merchant of Death,” he said softly. “How far do you suppose the apple falls from the tree,” he asked with his head quirked innocently to the side. He bit into the apple, laid the rest on a table, walked to the rope that was secured to the railing that separated the judge’s balcony from the tribute floor. He casually climbed over and shimmied down the rope before exiting the room. There was utter silence.

*****

“A 10,” Bree said, shocked.

Tony smiled.

Finnick watched him for a moment. When Tony rose to go to his room, Finnick followed.

“Your friend, Jarvis,” he began.

“He’s my father. My real father,” Tony said adamantly.

Finnick just nodded, remembering how they had clutched at each other after the reaping.

“Your Jarvis,” Finnick corrected, “is a good friend of Mags, the mentor that helped me during my Hunger Games. She knew that I was to be the mentor this time, and she asked me to watch out for you as much as I’m able. I didn’t really take it seriously. There was no way you were making it out,” Finnick said with a shrug.

Tony stared at the young Victor who was only 20 years old and still was the youngest victor to ever survive the Games (at 14), with his solemn, dark eyes.

“You’re going to win this, aren’t you kid,” Finnick whispered.

Tony stared.

“What did you do in there? No one will say,” Finnick whispered.

Tony stared for a moment longer before he said, “They say you should always bet on the house . . . but the Capitol and the Games? They’re a house of cards, Finnick. Do you know what I am, Finnick O’Dair?”

“You’re a boy. Just a boy. And now a tribute,” he replied.

Tony smiled.

“We’ll see.”


	4. The Games Begin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony enters the arena.

Tony walked beside Finnick towards the tribute tubes. He was wearing lightweight combat pants with solid hiking boots and a light coat that might also serve as a type of poncho. The colors were a mixture of green and black. He was certain they were going to some forested arena. Gayle would like that.

“As soon as the cannon fires head in the opposite direction of the cornucopia. Find somewhere to hide. You’re small, Stark. Use that,” Finnick said as he walked him towards the door. He stopped Tony and turned him towards him, kneeling down and looking Tony in the eye for, perhaps, the first time. “This isn’t right. This isn’t fair.” Finnick pursed his lips, nodded, and then pulled Tony in for a hug.

“What are you doing,” Tony asked, surprised.

“I want you to remember what that feels like. It’s from your Jarvis,” he said with a sincere smile.

Tony swallowed against the tight feeling in his throat and nodded.

“They’ll be watching,” Finnick added.

Something in Tony’s eyes glinted at the reminder of Jarvis’s final words in District 4. Tony turned and made his way towards the tube. It closed around him, and everything went silent.

Tony closed his eyes as he felt himself beginning to rise. He took slow, deep breaths to stem the rising panic. This he could do. He had fought against panic every time Howard had returned home.

Tony felt the tube lowering and a sharp breeze blowing against his face. He opened his eyes and took in everything around him. He very carefully avoided looking for Bree, his first friend who would soon be dead—she was simply to kind to survive this. He didn’t look for Gayle, who he thought maybe had a chance. He would ally with him if they bumped into each other, but it was safer alone.

The cornucopia was filled with weapons and supplies, but Tony spotted a small satchel, not even a backpack really, that would be easy for him to carry. It was near the closest stand of trees. 

The countdown started.

8 . . . 7 . . . 6 . . .5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . 

The cannon boomed and Tony leapt from his space, heading quickly towards the satchel. He had it and was heading towards the trees before most of the careers had even made it to the weapons and supplies . . . though he didn’t know that. It wasn’t safe to look back. That took precious seconds that he knew he didn’t have.

He ran lightly through the brush, quickly picking out a path. Already, cannons were booming to signify the deaths of the tributes from the opening minutes. He counted five before he took a sharp turn, heading into the thicker brush.

Tony stopped and listened for a moment. He couldn’t hear anything, but he needed a better view to get the lay of the land. He looked around and quickly picked a good climbing tree. He was up it like a shot like a squirrel. Once he knew that he had disappeared into the foliage, he leaned his back against the trunk of the tree and opened his satchel.

It was a good start. Small first aid kit, a plastic water bottle (empty), small package of what he thought might be some type of dried meat, a packable poncho (he would use it for extra warmth if the nights got too cool) and . . . a swiss army knife!

Tony could have cried when he flipped open the small screw driver attachment. They had no idea what they’d given him. This changed everything. For a moment, he wondered if perhaps Howard hadn't been speaking for him around the Capitol after all. Tony sat still and listened.

Within a moment he had spotted a camera in a tree across from him. He would have to climb down and then up the other tree, but the camera and its circuits would give him access to their system. If the tech here was anything like the tech in the tribute training center, he could hack everything. 

He knew that’s what Jarvis had implied before he left for the Capitol. Hacking was a dying art form, more myth and legend than something that was actually practiced. Howard’s technology moved away from circuits and coding and into the realm of weapons manufacturing for the peacekeepers. It was Tony’s designs for the pods and traps that had seen Howard become even more successful—though to Tony, they had always been puzzles and games, far removed from his life in the District.

Tony furtively looked around, listening for any out of the ordinary sounds. As always, he could hear the buzzing of the many devices that most had learned to ignore, but everything else was quiet. He figured that most were taking stock of their prizes and planning. He nodded and started making his way down the tree.

The camera followed Tony as he made his way down one tree and then up the other. Soon his face was shoved up close and personal with the camera within the knothole of the tree. Tony smiled.

****  
“Go to another camera, but stay with him. Let’s see what he’s doing,” Senneca said to the technician as he leaned over her shoulder.

“Yes, sir,” she replied, and then the Capitol was watching little Tony Stark from District 4 as he fiddled with something deep in the knothole of the tree.

“What’s he doing,” another technician said, furrowing his brow.

“I don’t . . . know,” another replied. They were taught how to work the Gaming controls, but few could actually tell how they worked.

Everyone watched for another few minutes, perplexed.

“Huh. Let’s go to another group then,” Senneca said, turning away from the small boy.

Ceasar Flickerman took Seneca’s cue and announced that a group of tributes had formed an alliance. The cameras homed in on the Careers as they hiked through the trees, laughing as if they truly were playing a game.

******

Tony smiled as he finally reconnected the last wire, and then counted to ten for the reconnect to start signaling once more.

******

Just as the Capitol and the Districts watched the Careers hunt down and kill a tribute from District 7, Senneca startled as all of the cameras in another area, the area where Tony Stark had crouched, hidden, went dark for a moment before immediately resetting.

“What just happened,” he barked at the nearest technician.

“Just a glitch, sir. We’re back online,” he replied. Senneca nodded, but then paused.

“Where’s the boy, Stark—from 4,” he asked suddenly, his stomach sinking as he remembered the tribute evaluation that had earned the 11 year old a perfect score.

“He hasn’t move,” another technician responded, but when they looked at the same tree, he clearly was missing from the scene.

Senneca’s mouth dropped open.

*****

Tony screwed his eyes tightly shut as he dug deeper into his arm with the small knife attachment. This would have been easier with a better knife, but needs must. He had gauze and antibiotic ointment in the satchel. He would be fine.

Another minute and he had the tracker clutched in his hand. He carefully secured it to the tree branch with a bit of gauze and then placed some leaves and other bits from the tree to cover both. He thought they blended well when he was done.

Tony knew the trackers had no kill switch since tributes knew there were cameras watching as well as the trackers that followed their every move. Tony also knew there were Cameras everywhere, but he could quickly hack his way through several select areas of the arena and then truly hide. He knew that he would only be safe if he could hide from both the tributes AND the gamers, who played a game of their own with their own favorites. He wasn’t taking any chances. 

He smiled, and shimmied down the tree, watching and listening to avoid the nearest cameras. He could avoid being spotted again soon since they wouldn’t have expected him to bother removing the tracker.


End file.
